Beaten
by putyourrecordson
Summary: Sherlock's annoyed with a serial killer, and the killer is annoyed with him, someone is getting hurt. But who is going to suffer?
1. Beaten

This was a rough week for Sherlock and Watson, the case is harder than most and Sherlock hadn't slept for days. He needed to solve this; he didn't know why he just did. It was about a serial killer who has taken 5 lives at, what appears to be, complete random, just taking them from the streets. The really annoying thing is that they're taken from different parts of the city, they have no connection whatsoever. Joan had tried to make him sleep, to try and calm down and take it easy but he wouldn't, he was now angrier and more frustrated than ever.

Joan had stayed at home to go over the files alone (she usually finds something when alone) while Sherlock went to the precinct to see if they had any new information about the unknown body which was found in a child's playground yesterday. Sherlock looked over the file, Luther Drund, male, early 40s, Hispanic, severely beaten and tortured till death. What kind of person does this to someone? Sherlock thought as his mind skipped through the facts. Sherlock was getting close to figuring this out, he knew the murderer was going by the code name 'bulldog' but his real name was Jeffery Peterson, all he needed to figure out was why he was killing and how to find him.

He was deep in thought when his phone suddenly went off, Watson.

"What" he said as soon as he picked it up.

"Sherlock I..." she was scared, it sounded like she was about to cry.

"Watson, I'm very busy with the case so unless you're going to say something useful, hang up" he didn't want to deal with this, he was even thinking straight. He hadn't noticed the disturbance in her voice.

"Sher- Sherlock I... I need you to li-listen to m-"she was speaking slowly.

"WATSON, do you or do you not have something to say about the case?!" he snapped at her. What was wrong with him? he didn't know why he was acting like this, he was just so tense and irritated. on any other occasion he would be at the brownstone in an instant, trying to find out everything he could so he could protect her. She was all he had.

She sniffed her nose, as she held back tears and whispered out "no but I-"

"NO, great well next time you feel like wasting my time, feel free to call. This case is important Watson, whatever you may want is not worth my time" and with that sudden burst of anger, he hung up on her. he wanted to call back and apologise but he knew it would just lead to a long conversation about anger issues, which he didn't want to go through right now.

He continued working on the case for the next 3 hours when he finally finished it. The murderer was going for streets in alphabetical order, the victims were taken at exactly 3:14, and they were just unlucky. They found out where he was going next but he wasn't there. Sherlock was annoyed and he was tired, he decided to go home and apologise to Watson for the phone call then see if she found something. He walked back home and just as he turned the corner to the street with the brownstone a white van pulled up just outside the house.

The windows were tinted so he couldn't see the driver, the side door opened and a body was thrown out.

Oh god no, no no no NO! Sherlock thought as he sprinted towards her, Joan's body was lying there, beaten and broken but still alive. The van had driven off at top speed, round the corner and out of sight. He fell down next to her and turned her body so as to see her face, she was covered in blood and was barely breathing. He pulled out his phone and dialled 911, quickly shouted the address down the phone and asked for an ambulance then hung up.

She looked just like all the other victims, her bone sticking out of her ankle, bruises and cuts all over her body and a tooth knocked out. He wanted to cry, it was his entire fault, she had called him and tried to ask for help but he was too damn stubborn to listen.

"Joan, please Joan hang in there. Please Joan don't… don't leave me Joan. I'm sorry Joan, please" he kept saying this over and over again. Trying to get her to wake up, brushing blood stained hair away from her face. Not five minutes had passed until the ambulance had arrived, but to him it felt like forever.

-time skip = 3 hours later-

They were at the hospital, Sherlock had Bell to call Joan's family, and he knew he wouldn't be able to explain what had happened without saying it was his fault. He was sitting in the waiting room, he need to know that she was alright, if she was. The nurse walked over to him.

"Mr Holmes?"

Sherlock looked up and nodded.

"Good, well she suffered a server beating and she has quite a few broken bones, she was actually very close to death, but we saved her just in time, if it weren't for you she may have died"

"Right" he said, he kept thinking that if it weren't for him then she wouldn't be here in the first place.

"Oh and one more thing, there was a message written on her back, I wrote it down on some paper for you." She handed him a small slip of white paper, the message was clearly for him.

_I really hope your case was worth your Watson_

**to be continued... **


	2. Welcome home

**I wish to apologise for making you wait, I had homework to do. please enjoy! remember, reviews help.**

Sherlock couldn't help but feel like this whole mess was his fault, that if only he had been nicer on the phone. That if only he had listened to her, that if only he was there for her. The note was wrong, any progress he made on that case was not worth it, and he would have given up all of the information he had just to make sure she was safe.

He had the image of her broken body stuck in his mind, how she was completely defenceless against them. He should have been there, he should have helped her, he should have been more aware of the situation when she called. He didn't want any harm to come to her, he cared about her too much to ever let any of this happen, again. He would make sure to sleep during cases, make sure to listen to her when on the phone, no, listen to her no matter what. Even if it was the middle of the night and she was complaining about a break up, he must listen. He wanted to make this better for her; dare he say he loved her?

It was two weeks after the beating, Joan was just about to be released and Sherlock was nowhere in sight. After he had heard that she was ok, and that she was going to make it he left Bell and went back home. He wanted to try and find the people who did this to her, he made sure that all the rooms were more secured and he bolted her bedroom window, just in case they came back.

When Joan had first woken up she was greeted by her mother, her brother was out of town and farther couldn't come. Mary was kind to Joan, telling her everything she knew about what happened, but Joan didn't care about the beating.

She wanted to see Sherlock, she needed to tell he about how it was all her fault and that he shouldn't feel guilty, but he didn't pick up the phone. She had a cast on the ankle, so she needed crutches to walk properly. Joan's mother helped her to get into the cab and took her home, back to her brownstone and back to her Sherlock.

"Thank you mom" Joan said as the got to the front door.

"Do you want me to help about the house?" Mary asked, with Joan's best interests in mind.

"No thank you, besides I really need to talk to Sherlock, alone."

Mary understood this and with a small hug she left her daughter to her business. Joan stepped through the front door and carefully closed it behind her. The Brownstone was quite, too quite. She took a deep breath and moved forward a few paces, still nothing.

"Sherlock" she shouted, she heard a loud crash from upstairs, and Sherlock came rushing down. Joan was so happy to see him, and he was happy to see her, he nearly picked her up and spun her round in a hug, if it weren't for the ankle.

"Watson, your back, great how's the foot?" he just stood in front of her smiling.

"It's good, are you alright?" she was concerned, he looked happy, but he also looked as though he hadn't slept since the accident.

"Ahh Watson, when am I not, I need your help upstairs, with a case"

"Ok, but it will take me a while to get up there" she said jokingly.

"You want me to take you? I set up a chair for you" he looked almost embarrass.

"Sure, thank you" she said with a smile.

Sherlock had picked her up, all bridal fashion and carried her upstairs. The wall or crazy was covered, but this time it wasn't the only one, the entire room had been covered in all sorts of bits of paper and photos and post it notes with random scribbles on them. It was all messy and he had empty cups of coffee and bowls of cereal in it, except by Watsons chair, that and the surrounding area were completely clean. He had set up the chair with a foot rest and plenty of pillows. He placed her down gently, making sure to take care with her ankle, and then he sat down next to her.

"Sherlock, I have to tell you something" she was very serious when saying this, which was hard because Sherlock looked like a five year old in trouble.

"So do I" Sherlock replied. "May I go first?" he sounded shy and sheepish, like he was a child telling his mum that he broke her fancy plates. He was looking down all nervous,

"Of course" she made sure to sound calm and relaxed when she said this, so not to make him feel guilty.

"I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry. I'm really sorry for being rude to you on the phone, I'm sorry for letting all this happen and I'm sorry that I haven't been to visit you I.. I just didn't know what to say when I showed up, so I didn't." he was about to cry, and Joan could tell so she put her hand on his, squeezed it slightly and smiled. "I'm really sorry Joan"

"No, Sherlock, you only need to apologise for not visiting. None of this was your fault, not a single bit, I know you were angry and tired when you were on the phone, and that you were busy and I-"she was cut off, by Sherlock.

She was talking really quickly so Sherlock did what any friend would do to make her shut up, he kissed her.


	3. changing

The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it was the best few seconds of her life. she wasn't expecting him to do that, I don't think anybody would, when he pulled away he just looked into her eyes and left. He had just stood up and almost ran out of the room, Sherlock was now hiding on the roof.

he didn't know why he had left, he wanted to stay with her but she looked so confused after what he did he just got to nervous. what was he supposed to say, was he meant to apologise for it? even if she regretted it, he didn't, he loved every second of it. it uncovered feeling he didn't know he had, he just wanted her to shut up, but now there is so much more. so much change.

She didn't know what to do, she couldn't go after him but she couldn't just ignor what had happened. She decided to text him.

**Hey – JW**

**Hi- SH**

**R u ok?- JW**

**Honestly?- SH**

**No, please lie to me ****- JW**

**No, im not ok – SH**

**Wait, was that the truth? – JW**

**Yes, it was. Im not ok- SH**

**Whats wrong? –JW**

**Ur the detective, u tell me-SH**

**Your scared, cus u kissed me – JW**

**Whats to be scared of? –SH**

**Rejection- JW**

**Sherlock holmes doesn't get rejected- SH**

**If ur so sure, y u leave?- JW**

**Cus it wasn't meant to mean anything- SH**

**Wasn't meant to? So did it mean something?-JW**

**Depends, did it 2 u?-SH**

**I ask u first- JW**

**I ask u 2****nd****- SH**

**Your such a child, I think that what I like most about you. - JW**

**Wht u mean?- SH**

**Come down, I tell you.-JW **

Sherlock wondered for a moment, should he or should he not? He walked down the stairs and sat down next to her once again. She took his hand in hers, making him look at her.

"your childish, you can be really sweet and the next moment really serious, you manage to make the darkest situations bright. You make me laugh when I want to cry, I don't know what I woud do without you. I like you, Sherlock" She was smiling as she said this, she was calm and relaxed which screemed at Sherlock that she was telling the truth.

He had to say something, anything. but things were changing so fast, he wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, how beautiful she was and how intelligent he thought she was, but he could only think of one little sentence to say.

"I like you too" he chuckled a bit then smiled back, he rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

She looked up, scanning all the information on the walls.

"so, are you going to explain this then?" she guestured to the wall of crazy.

"ahh, yes well pay attension, its gets complicated" he chuckled again then leaped over to various parts of the room explaining things. While he did this all watson could think was, _its good to be back. _

BOOM, goes the bomb.


	4. stay strong

Alright, so what do we know?

Jeffery Peterson a.k.a BULLDOG- murderer, killed 6, abused 1. That we know of. Kidnapped Joan Watson, revenge against nearly capturing him.

Joan Watson- kidnapped, beaten, sent to hospital, now back home with partner, Sherlock Holmes. Under protection of NYPD

Sherlock Holmes- working on case of serial killer BULLDOG, under protection of NYPD.

Holmes + Watson- boyfriend + girlfriend, recent.

Bomb- just went off.

SHERLOCK HOLMES P.O.V

I was explaining things on minute, to my girlfriend (that's new) and the next I'm laying on the floor. There was a big explosion, our house wasn't warm and it was still in one piece, must have been a nearby neighbours house. WATSON, I see her through the gap underneath the desk, she is on the floor in pain.

She is trying not to show it but I think she was hit on the head with shards from the windows, and her ankle would be killing her right now, may or may not be taking her back to hospital. Before I know it I'm crawling back over to her, ignoring all the glass in have in my hands, just trying to get to her and to help her.

When I finally reach her, she has lifted her head asking if I am all right. I confirm that I am fine and I ask her if she is ok, I check her forehead and the rest of her body to make sure. I ask her about the pain in her ankle, she says it PI on a scale of 1-10 (PI= 3.142) and I tell her not to lie to me, because I know when she lies, she says it may have gone up to seven or eight. I pick her up and carry her to a more secure and safer place in the house, we end up inside her room, none of the windows broken, and I lay her on her bed and tell her to scream if she needs me.

She argues about me leaving her but I must go and find out what happened. it doesn't feel right to leave her alone but I need to make sure it is safe again, I check her bedroom window one more time and then I go and look out of the windows at the front and I see a much burnt body on the floor, it seems to have fallen down the steps of our front door.

None other houses are harmed by explosion + crap as bomb didn't do much+ bomb was on timer and suicidal bomber didn't get in house in time to kill us + we are all ok = IDIOT KILLER.

I observe the police and various other services arriving on the scene, they enter the brownstone with ease (will need a new door) they find me upstairs and I assure them I am all right, then I hear it. A window shattering and a scream coming from Watson, I try desperately to break down the door but something very strong is blocking it, the police man grabs the gun and shoots the hinges off. Eventually we can break down the door.

We all rush in to find the fire exit window broken and Watson is gone. I run as fast as I can, over to the window but I see nothing, nobody running away and no trace of anybody going back down, I spin round to investigate the room, how did this happen? It was 10 seconds MAX between the window breaking and me barging in, no wait we had to break the door, 2 minutes MAX. This is impossible; it's a trick, just a big magic trick, HOW DID HE DO THIS?

JOAN WATSON P.O.V

It all happened so fast, he was standing there explaining things, he looked amazing even if he hadn't slept for a while, and the next were on the floor after a giant bang went off. All I can think of is the raging headache and the killer pain in my ankle; someone please cut it off and give me some pain killers.

Sherlock is next to me in an instant, make sure he is ok before anything else, he is asking me about my ankle, I tell him I'm fine but inside I am hurting so much, I tell him something he might believe 7 or 8- 10. Hell, it was 10 time that, but I didn't want him worrying about me, soon he picks me up and takes me to my room, he places me down and says to stay here while he checks it out. I beg him and beg him not to go but he convinces me otherwise, I'm ready to scream if anything happens.

Suddenly I hear glass breaking, I get a sharp pain in my arm just after I see a man climbing through the window, I'm knocked out instantly and when I wake it is dark, very dark and very cold. The room is damp and smells awful, my vision is blurred and I can't make out many shapes, I can't hear my either but it soon improves.

My leg still hurts but I can't concentrate on that, Sherlock was only in the other room so I must have disappeared within 10 seconds, police were there so there's no way there could have been a fight, and I was still taken. Ok where am I? I think I am underground somewhere, still in New York because I can hear the traffic outside, I'm not that deep down and I'm near the centre, the sewers! No wonder it smells so much down here, the sewers will give easy access around the city and can give any escape for criminals, who know the route.

Fortunately I know this place inside and out, but I'm tied up, my ankle in an unfortunate position which won't help its recovery. I wonder what Sherlock is doing, is he figuring out how to save me? Or is he already on his way? I don't know how long I have been knocked out but, only a few drugs can knock people out almost instantly, so I think about the pain in my head, the amount of pain illuminates quite a few of them leaving only spigotine and pentica. I'm guessing pentica, mainly because I know more about it.

I can hear talking in the distance but I can't make out what they are saying, ok so far I know this…

a bomb went off very near our house

I've been kidnaped twice

My ankle is broken, limiting escape options

Sherlock is probably worried himself to death, and working hard to find me

I need to get out of here.

Stay strong Joan, stay strong.

**A/N- spigotine and pentica are completely made up, feel free to use them if you wish to. I hope that this will keep your story hunger at bay until I may write again, please review what you think! :) and thank you to all those who have bothered to read this story. **


	5. update

Shall I recap on what's happened? Who cares, I will anyway.

Sherlock nearly caught a serial killer but he didn't, Watson was kidnapped by said serial killer, Beaten by them and then returned home with a broken ankle. Brownstone attacked by suicide bomber with a terrible bomb, Watson kidnapped, AGAIN, now in sewers under central New York and Sherlock has no idea how the kidnapper got her out of the brownstone. You want more details? Read the story, speaking of which we should get back to that…

-Flashback-

Joan and Sherlock sitting in the Brownstone, enjoying a nice breakfast by themselves just talking about random subjects.

"I don't see why you like that show" Sherlock says

"I like it because it's interesting; it has a certain level of understanding." Sherlock rolled his eyes as Watson continued "it's funny and creative yet sad and understandable all in one episode, why don't you like it?"

"It's hard to believe, it shows no logic and it's completely irrelevant."

"Yes, because everything normal people like is irrelevant"

"Not true, normal people like breathing, that's very relevant!"

"Right, you just need to watch it and you might enjoy it"

"Watson, I have already watched it, and I did enjoy it but I do not wish to waste time on it"

"If you like it you're not wasting time, just tell me the main reason you don't like it?"

"Because the big question of it, the mystery of it is easy to answer, it's the easiest question in the world to answer, doctor who?"

"Ok then, what's the answer?"

"Doctor him."

They laughed at this, it was a rare time when Sherlock laughed and Joan savoured the moment.

-Wibbly wobbly timey wimey transport to present day-

Joan lays there on the cold damp floor, remembering all those little talks she's had with him, all that time wasted not knowing how he felt about her. They could have done so much together, they could have started a family, but no, she was too damn scared to admit that she liked him. Although she thought this to be true, she didn't regret the time she spent with him, she loved every second. Oh, how she wished to be with him right now, to be in him arms being held close and safe from everything around them.

Joan's thoughts

Too bad he let this happen; too bad he let me get kidnapped twice, TWICE. Too bad I got beaten up because of him and that I'm here be- NO STOP THIS RIGHT NOW! It's not his fault and you know it, you just want someone to blame, don't you? Well blame the damn criminal, not the person you care about deeply and are trying to find and save you right now.

-Over to the Brownstone, Sherlock-

He is going over her room like a sniffer dog, making sure he missed nothing at all. He has to find something, he has to find her and he has to find her alive! He saw something, maybe nothing but still, a small scratch on the floor next to the wall, he searched around a bit and found a secret button. It was a passage, a secret passage in HIS girlfriend's room! He wonders if she knew about it, no, she would have told him about it if she did, but how did they do this?

They walk down the very thin passage way, just enough room for one person at a time; she must have been dragged through due to the marks on the floor. It doesn't seem to dusty so it must have been installed within the last few months which means it happened when they were in London, he can't keep cameras in her room so he can't tell if he is right or not.

It goes down, a long way, but finally opens up in the sewers, he looks around for clues as to which direction she might have been taken, but there's nothing. The police are going to send out search parties through the sewers but there are loads of them, and they may not even be down here still, they say this to him, but he doesn't care, he needs to find some way of finding her.

He suggests using dogs but they say that the smells down there would block the dog's nose; they wouldn't be able to track properly. Then he remembers, how could he be so stupid, he slipped a tracking device into her cast when he first kissed her, all he needs to do is get on his computer and he can find her!

Sherlock rushes back to the Brownstone only to find that the bomb cut off the power, he can't access the program he needs to find her. Captain Gregson and detective bell are there trying to calm him down, Sherlock is pacing around panicking.

"Sherlock, she's a strong girl, she'll be fine" Bell says.

"But what if-"Sherlock sputters out just as Gregson stops him.

"No, Sherlock there is no what if's, she will be fine, with you working to find her she has to be!"

"god I hope so"

**Yes I know, crappy story but hey, gimme a break, I got no idea where this is going, please feel free to share your ideas of what you might want to happen next, I got writers block! Thanks **


	6. too little, too late

Watson had been gone for 5 hours now and Sherlock was worrying out of his mind. He had gotten hold of a laptop and was currently downloading the software he needed to find her. DING, it was done loading.

He quickly typed the code number of the chip into the search bar, he typed hard enough to nearly have the letters rub off on his figures. It only took 5 seconds for it to find her but in those five seconds, five thoughts had occurred into his mind.

Second 1- finally, we can find her.

Second 2- what if it doesn't work

Second 3- what if it does, but it's too late

Second 4- what happens if she is already dead

Second 5- no, she is alive, I know it.

When they located her they wasted no time as to getting there. His heart was pounding; exhilaration in his plus told him that he was worried, scared but brave and angry. He was going to get his Watson back.

-Meanwhile, with Joan-

She was hurt, more than before, she had been beaten before but this time she was already weak when it started. She could feel the pain in every part of her bruised and defiled body; she knew it wouldn't last long though. It was starting, as Sherlock's plus sped up, she felt hers slowing down, the darkness was slowly approaching, her eyes slowly closing. He scarlet stained body slowly falling into the bliss of fate. The last thing she saw were red and blue, flashing lights, and the last thing she heard, the sweet and loving sound of Sherlock's voice, calling out the one word she never thought he would ever say to her. The one word he only says to others, never to her, the word she longed to hear him say.

"Joan"

-Sherlock's side of the story-

They are running, down through the sewers, desperately trying to get there in time. They confront the guards, who are arrested immediately; BULLDOG was found around the next corner, he attacked Sherlock, but was shot by bell, BULLDOG is dead. they turn the corner to see her there, 100 yards off. Covered in blood, almost all bones seem to be broken, making her look like a hollowed out shell of her former self. He sprints, faster than anybody can describe, seeming to be at the speed of light leaving the rest behind. He is with her in a few seconds, calling out her name over and over again. He hopes with every blood cell in his body, but part of him knows, one small part that's just as smart as everyone else, that part of his brain telling him what everyone is thinking.

It's too late.

She lies there, in the hospital bed, they did everything they could, but she lost most of her blood, leaving her as white as snow, her hair as black as ebony, yet with her make up on, her lips red as blood. The story of snow white ends happily, one kiss and it's all ok, but this is not a fairy tale and a kiss cannot solve this problem. She was dead.

Sherlock could not stand it; he loved her and never said so. He had caused her death; he felt his very soul and heart ripe in two when the doctor said the words he never wanted to hear. Her family were devastated when they heard, they were heartbroken at first but then, they were angry. They started to blame Sherlock for everything and all her could do was sit there and listen, the said that it was his fault, that she never should have become his partner, or sober companion. They said the worst things you could possibly imagine, eventually he couldn't stand it anymore and he went back home.

It was in the papers the next day, her death had a big impact on almost everyone in New York with letters and phone calls contacting Sherlock, some saying how sorry they were, but most blaming him. His guilt was piled up higher than heaven, starting from the bottom of hell, and he couldn't take it.

He went to the roof; under the bees he kept his was to find release and freedom from it all. His glass encases poison that he needed. Irene had only set him into addiction, Joan well, for her; he was going all the way. In one soft movement, one slow puncture of the skin, it would all end, all the pain and guilt gone, he would be with her again. Away from everything he hated so much, he would give anything to be with her again, money, the Brownstone and he would give his life.


	7. freedom and bliss

He was heartbroken, and heartbroken people do heart breaking things, he knew it was his only escape. The perfectly preserved glass case of bliss, the one with the clean and pointed end to Pearce the skin and end the pain. He wasn't scared, why would he be? He was going to the one place he wanted to be more than anywhere, he was going to Watson, to Joan.

He brings it up to his arm, and the fine needle slowly going in, cutting the skin layers one by one until it reached the blood veins. He knew that every drop meant one more step to peace, to relief and to her. He could feel the cold liquid coursing through his body as he slowly slipped into a deep sleep, to which he shall never wake. He was finally free, free from the horrors of earth and released into the dream world of death.

It's clear to use that Watson was the one that got hurt. But Sherlock was the one that suffered.

Fin.


End file.
